


Oh! Begrudgingly

by noizthegermanweiner



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Explicit Language, F/F, Gun Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 10:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5493155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noizthegermanweiner/pseuds/noizthegermanweiner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once the world has been slated clean of approximately 96% of it's population, the remaining populace of people form normadic tribes in order to survive. Raids are common place in these reformed lands, no rules to be upheld besides natural law, the only way to survive is through wit, strength and community. Whether this world of broken humans actually holds humanity is the question on everyone's minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn of what happened to wipe out almost all humanity and take a trip down memory lane with Kageyama all the while.

At the start of every winter the common cold makes its appearance, many become infected, and for a few days they remain under the weather. For such a resilient infection, many regard it harmless, it’s something they have fought many times before without failure, it’s nothing compared to major diseases that cull thousands in one foul sweep. This is where the common cold prevails. Many infections like small pox are contained, only found in labs, have cures, although, year after year, the common cold rises once again. It mutates past our year old solutions and prowls again for potential victims. In hindsight the answer was obvious, it’s been hidden under our occasionally stuffy noses since we were born. To think humanity was crippled by the common cold is painfully anticlimactic. 

20XX, upon the gentle crisp wind of autumn in France was where it was believed it started. It was not started by a mad scientist failing his humanity, nor a vigilant enemy, but the infection itself, during its self-reproduction, a mutation was developed.  
At first it wasn’t a drastic change, those who had caught the cold had a higher severity in coughing and were more susceptible to other diseases during the infection. The first recorded death was an elderly Englishmen that was visiting his daughter in France, his death wasn’t thought as of suspicious, a male dying at his age wasn’t anything new, the only reason for documentation was a nurse finding his death oddly close to the death of two children from the town.

A further reason for concern was the length of the cold, the earliest victim had had it for 2 months before their death, but from food poisoning rather than the cold. By the 30th recorded death an investigation was issued, their autopsy’s finding scared lungs in which they related to pulmonary fibrosis and a weakened immune system. Swiftly, they began to develop a flu shot for this new strain, but before completion a new mutation began, this time giving the infected rashes and cysts on the lungs. More deaths were accounted to the common cold itself rather than other infections that took over of the body’s weakened state. It was 2000 dead by the start of winter in Europe.

The mutation got massive media coverage when cases began to appear in the America’s and Eastern Asia and when Pneumonia was added to the large list of symptoms, the whole situation was regarded as side news by the end of December, the amount of cases seemingly dropping, giving the medical teams working on flu shots and Band-Aid cures plenty of room. Until December 27th, record blizzards spread across the North Eastern coast of North America. Hundreds became infected, and many became hospitalised. The disease taking advantage of the cold winter climate to attack the respiratory system of the infected. During the research of nations from the southern hemisphere, an infected group developed the symptom of necrosis. From this international travel became incredibly strict, anyone from the majorly infected areas were not allowed to enter airports unless cleared for not having the disease, but the ability to tell the difference between the dangerous strain and the ‘original’ common cold strain was limited, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to send the wrong people in and away. 

By the start of spring, over 100 million had died, and an estimate of 2 billion were infected by any type of the common cold. A drug smuggler managed to escape Australia, one of the country’s possessing the necrosis mutation, and escaped by boat into Singapore. This caused the wide spread of that mutation in South East Asia, if not killing the victims, making them disabled and unable to work. For many countries this caused public unrest. Riots were ensued first in France, America then Germany, the instant nature of the internet spreading the information of worldwide riots, a movement demanding the cure to be completed before it kills any more.

By late spring, when the death toll had reached 1 billion, many countries had closed their borders, in a last ditch attempt to prevent the disease to infect any more, although, for many countries, the insanitary nature of the destructive riots helped spread the disease further. Many powerful countries formed unions and alliances to rid the world of the most infected countries. China, France, America, England were common targets, the lack of solders caused bombs to be launched in their place. 

Two years had passed since the bombs were no longer dropped, all communication was lost with other countries, so one can only speculate what happened to them. Although, through all of this, there was select amounts who were born immune to the disease. Little study was conducted on them before most governments fell out. It’s estimated that over 96% of the population was wiped out, some would boldly say that there is less than 100, 000 left, but others would hope that it was only poor resources that cut them off from a healthy and cure bearing society over the border.

During that lag time after all governments fell, a few vigilantes groups developed, taking those who were immune at experimenting on them with what they had left. Most were infected through poor experimental protection equipment, the rest leaving the organisation to isolate themselves as far from the disease as possible.  
After years the immune segregated into tribes, turning nomadic to survive the consistent conflicts between them and the infected resources through sabotage by opposing countries. Humanity had returned to its initial routes and the ones who were still alive were unable to live on the prewritten legacy given to them by their fallen kin.  
Something poetic had occurred, and yet no one was able to comment.

This is a story of humanity’s second chance, this is our untrusted ‘restart’ of the game of evolutionary success.  
The common cold may have killed most, if there is still a handful left, humanity will survive.

-

Cold as rubbing dabbled flesh against ice, the rain speared his shivering skin. Quickly they tapped along the pavement, splashing through puddles of muck. The odd glove or shoe soaked and vomiting a putrid odour. A small yell rebounded around the suburb, the large hand around his tightened significantly. Pressing him against their side with dark eyes wriggling side to side like a suffocating fish. She would whisper his name under her breath, tangling her dextrous fingers in his hair at every stop, running them through the thin black locks in reassurance. 

“Almost home Tobio,” Her tired voice would always heave, licking her cracked lips. Her hallowed sockets a vibrant grey now.  
He only responded with a curt nod, pressing himself further into the woman’s side. Noticing the small building in the distance. The rotting rose bed, the fallen streetlamp, it was home as beautiful as ever. A handful of minutes led the two to the door, the older shakily rattling the rusting locks, to the sound of hushed voices and scattering feet. Her eyes were led to the window farthest right, wooden boards ripped off and a few filthy teens scrambling out with supplies under their bony arms.  
Retaking the death grip around the child’s hand, she walked inside, warily walking to the kitchen after the door was locked. The whole house was ransacked. Only a few cans of food and a futon remained on the floor.

“Sit here for now,” she grunted, pointing towards the futon. “How about you tell me about school? Did you enjoy it?” 

Excitedly the boy nodded his head, laying down on the futon with a subtle smile. “It was only me and Moto and Fujiyama today! Moto let me play with his toys today since Ito didn’t come today. Fujiyama kept crying and stayed in the bathroom for the whole day, she was so boring. Mrs Takahashi said that tomorrow is her last day as well, so only cranky Ueda is going to be there now. Moto said that his big brother decided to go so he doesn’t want to be with his daddy right now. But I got to play with the fire truck for once!”

“I’m glad you had fun.” She grinned, rubbing her eyes as she limped to place all of the cans onto the kitchen bench. “Did you learn anything today?”

“No, we just played, it was the best last day ever!” Tobio yapped, rolling over to his stomach so he could play with the stitching of the futon. “I’m hungry, Mum.”  
Raising a shaky eyebrow at her son, she replied with distaste sitting in her throat. “Didn’t they feed you?” 

“Nah! They gave us a cracker. It was gross and wet so I didn’t eat it.” He garbled, scratching a rash blooming on his cheek. “Hurry up Mommy, I’m so hungry.”

Squinting her eyes, as she opened the lid of a can, she growled a warning under her breath. “If you get food don’t reject it Tobio.” 

Ignoring the huff of the child, she moved to secure the area after she sat an open can in front of Tobio. It was a good 10 minutes before she came back to eat her share, gently ruffling the boy’s hair as she walked past. They engaged in a few more broken conversations before she left to go finish her cleaning. Trying the clean up the mess that the invaders left behind. 

It was a clack of the mop meeting the ground, soon followed by the smack of something much heavier that made the boy nearly jump out of his own skin. He screeched in surprise as he looked for her around the room, only finding a tangled mess of black locks peaking from behind the kitchen bench. 

Without caution he rounded the corner to find his mother collapsed, eyes rolling and mouth foaming. Her whole body erupting into a series of untimed tremors and jolts. Her voice was hacked out, breaking out of the bodily possession every few seconds to whine a plea, before rolling back in like a branch caught in the rapids. Whipping against every rock as it snapped and twisted, small moments of respite followed by unexpected dips and finally, being hurled down the edge of the waterfall below.  
The boy stared wide eyed, mind blank and palms sweaty. His eyes began to become glassy. Looking away as she made eye contact with him in between each fit. When her vibrating hands finally encased his own he began to cry. Wailing to get her to stop, shaking her hands off as he ran back to the futon.  
His tears wet the worn material as he rubbed his face insistently into the bedding. Hands over his ears to block out his mother’s own crying. It wouldn’t be silenced, those black eyes popping out of her almost fatless face as she screamed was etched into his mind. He tried to start reciting anything to block out the sound. Old rhymes his teacher made so they could remember their times tables, he screamed them until his throat went raw, until all he could do was whimper each number under his heaving breath. His breath quickened, his head becoming woozy as he heard to door to his home open, a few footsteps trotting towards him, and the gloved hands of two picking him up.  
They wore suits of shocking yellow and faces shielded by curved glass. Voices muffled they spoke to him with gentle words.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We can keep you safe. Come with us okay?” The female closest to him chirped gently, patting his back through her heavily padded gear. “We may look a little scary but they are scarier people outside right now.”

“Mummy…” He sniffled, snot bubbling out of his nose as he rubbed his eyes. “Mummy isn’t good... is she angry at me?” 

A few of the suited turned to look at the two investigating the mother, one looking back to shake his head as he crossed his arms. The same female that talked him just then got down onto her knees as she shuffled closer. “Mummy can’t come with us, but you’ll see her real soon. But while we are gone you can read a whole heap of big person books so you can make her happy again.”

“You haven’t been able to go to a proper school in a while. If you go to good place and learn a whole lot while she is gone she’ll be very happy.” She finished, her voice raising with a fabricated lilt.

“We have got plenty of food as well so you won’t go hungry.” Another added excitedly, rubbing his hands together. “We can also give you your mommy’s ring, just in case she doesn’t recognise you on how much of a big boy you have become in the future!”

Casting his own dark eyes to the rest of the men in the troupe, Tobio nodded his head in a rocking like motion. “Ok.” He uttered, letting them lead him out the door and into a large van with kanji too complicated for his young mind printed across the side. They sat him down onto one of the leather seats, wrapping him up in a blue cotton blanket as the placed the ring in his bony hand. 

Looking out the tinted window he made eye contact with a man walking down the street into their direction. Eyes red and puffy and holding a wrapped object, he looked at the van with remorse before slowly trudging on.  
During their trip Tobio spotted many of these men, sometimes with a family, or just alone. By the time the sun teased the horizon he was too tired to take watch anymore, and allowed his eyes to slip closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is merely a prologue that I had written in April combined with the first chapter of this predictably long series, look forward to new chapters.


	2. The future doesn't understand the past as much as the present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The main three have been given center stage, lets see how human they really are.

Calloused fingers ran over white knuckles, gently swiping back and forth as the slightly moist skin underneath trembled. The male heaved a shuddering sigh, inhaling the sweet smell of the storm, keeping his chocolate brown eyes trained on his working fingers. 

A shaking breath was exhaled, the pain to his chest flaring ever so slightly. Lightning snapped in the sky above, he began to count, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, the sound of thunder rumbled. Another lightning strike, 1, 2, 3, 4, thunder crashed again. With the wind flaring above, the spray of the rain from the opening of their shed coating his already soaked hair. The bouncy brunette locks gone black and heavy, sticking to his heated forehead in chunks. 

Every blink made his eyelids heavier, his tired muscles aching for respite. The waning of the tin shed above them made his eyes snap wide, turning his head to the holes in the roof being covered by a tarp they found west. Water was being kept out, but swelling the pockets made by the polyethylene cover. He furrowed his brows at that, casting his gaze to the buckets sitting outside. Half full.

“Iwaizumi,” He called to the other, shaking his shoulder lightly, “What time did you say Tobio left?”

“About 7…” Iwaizumi grunted, shifting under the thermal blanket. 

Allowing a hum of recognition to leave his throat, he turned to the recently awakened. “What time is it now?” 

“I have no idea Oikawa, the moon or sun isn’t out, I cannot tell.” He grumbled back, pinching his eyebrows as he opened his eyes to look at the other. “It’s likely been about 3 hours, he’ll be back soon, and he is not stupid enough to huddle under a tree in this weather. So stop worrying.”

“I’m not worried about him! If he doesn’t come back we won’t have anyone to medicate us when we are sick.” Oikawa fervently denied.

“That’s,” The other paused, squinting his eyes “not how you use medicate.”

“But Iwa-chan, you understand?” He nagged.

“Of course I do,” Iwaizumi reassured, rolling over onto his side and sitting his head upon a propped up arm. “I’m just saying you are worried about him, whether that be you are losing an asset or someone close.”

Oikawa uttered, “By saying it like that, it sounds really mean.” Slightly pouting.

“Whatever I don’t care what you think of your own words, you care for him more than you are willing to admit. I don’t see why you are in such denial anyway, I know it, you know it, and the kid definitely needs to know it. He doesn’t open up about his parents, so a good parental role is what he needs.” He stated ruffling his own jet black hair as his cheeks flushed, “If anything we should be acting as his parents, he deserves a better childhood than ours.”

A moment of silence proceeded, long enough for a few crackles of thunder to shake the ground, and all the brunette could do was stare blankly at the other, his eyes hazed over slightly. 

“If we were his parents,” He thought, “You’d be his mother!” Oikawa cheekily quipped, a smirk curling its way onto his face.

“Excuse me?” Iwaizumi growled, grabbing the other by the arm. “If anything you’d be the mother, you have fragile body and pale skin of a girl. You break your fingers every ten seconds, and you dislocated your ankle twice, if it wasn’t for your brain and aggressive nature you’d be useless.”

“Nuh uh, once again totally wrong Iwa-chan!” the brunette giggled, “you cook for us and have the caring instinct of a mother, I should know I had a mother for longer! It was your idea to keep him anyway, like when a little girl wants to keep a puppy she finds, a maternal instinct through and through.”

“Maternal instinct?” He balked, raising his eyebrow, “Either way I’m not letting a deadbeat like you take the title of father. I can be his mother and father and you can be the creepy uncle.”

“Creepy?” Oikawa shrieked, “How mean, I’m full of charisma and charm!”

“How does that charm work when you look at others like there are a piece of meat?” Iwaizumi pointed out, “I’d imagine not well.”  
The brunette began to babble, crossing his arms with a huff “You are so mean Iwa-chan!” 

Lowering his voice in disappointment, Iwa-chan scolded “How old are you again? Seven, no, two?” 

“Twenty one!”

“It was a rhetorical question,” he sighed, rubbing his temples in annoyance.

A squish of mud and heaving breaths took them away from their conversation. A quick glance was exchanged between the two before Iwaizumi retrieved his gun, loading it before aiming it out the door. “Who is there?” He barked, aiming his gun at the shadow moving between the trees. “I’ll shoot if you do not reply soon!” Iwaizumi ruled, taking a glance at Oikawa’s pinched expression before he pushed his black eyes back to the shadow. 

A moments silence is all it took, a clear shot, the bang was heard through the woods, and a few birds squawked in panic, the body collapsed with a satisfying thump. Slowly, Iwaizumi stood up but was stopped by a solid grab on his wrist from the previously silent brunette. 

“It’s a trap, they send out a decoy, most likely a prisoner of their own, we kill them, we go to raid their corpse, and then we get swarmed. We die.” Oikawa whispered carefully, his eyes narrowing. “We can’t go out without Tobio right now, we have to remain still for the time being.”

“Oh ok, we stay here, they come here, we get swarmed, we die.” Iwaizumi spat sarcastically, “Good plan there genius.”

“Oi, we will be overwhelmed without Tobio, I can barely fight right now and you can’t take them all on by yourself. You are too heavy, you can land good, efficient hits, but you can’t get the drop on someone, they’ll here you from a mile away.” He hissed in reply, tightening his grip.

Taking the brunette’s hand off his wrist, he sat back down, still holding the gun tightly his hand, index finger off the trigger. Cold eyes still staring into the darkness in challenge, as he sighed in defeat. “So how are we going to make this plan work then?” 

“We will have to call out to Tobio, somehow if he hasn’t already noticed that we have enemies around. Try using the emergency whistle followed by strategy whistle, he’ll understand that we want him to at least assess the situation before he acts.” Oikawa commanded in while reaching around to put his jacket on. 

“You may be giving to kid too much credit.” The blacked haired male warned.

Breathing out slowly, tying his hair up into a loose bun. “I have to trust him Hajime.” Oikawa pleaded, adjusting the webbing on his chest.  
The twitch the other made wasn’t lost to his keen eye, but he pretended to ignore it for now, “Iwaizumi, pass me the gun and you whistle, I trust you to remember the order. As another thought add ‘no reply’, that may drive the message home. After that we will have to rely on what Tobio thinks is best right now. He’ll most likely try to kill as many of them as possible before being caught. Right now it’s our job to take advantage of the diversion he is causing and take down the ones swarming us. He is a smart brat, he’ll know when to communicate back to us.” He notified as the gun was pressed into his own palms. Silently he noticed the perspiration and heat upon the handle, such a small homage made him smile bitterly. He was glad that the feeling was neutral.

Iwaizumi cupped his hands tightly and pressed his thumbs together, leaving a thin gap between the appendages. With determination he pressed his lips to the knuckles of his thumbs, blowing air through the gap. The first whistle was simple, high and rapid, one designed to do quickly and not to be confused with anything else. The second was made through a combination of his fingers lifting repeatedly and the occasional tightening of the space that was cupped between his hands. Finally a space was left, slow and low was the last call, almost melancholic. 

Oikawa casted a small smile as a glance was thrown his way, fabrication of the moment was the only comfort they could understand. 

-

The down pour had almost frozen him to the bone, his mission was simple, find an Achillea millefolium plant or if he did not find that, an Acorus calamus. They were out of antibacterial cream and they needed to treat Oikawa’s wound. Preferably the former would be better, since according to his herbal book, the latter was only speculated to be antibacterial.

In hindsight perhaps going out when the sky looked that menacing was a bad idea, but in all honesty he could not come to hate his decision that much. It has been so long since he was able to hear thunder crackling and not tremble with fear, welcome the spray of ice cold water droplets on his sweaty face, trample in the puddles that formed in dips of the dirt. 

Tucking his long inky black hair behind his ears, heavy with moisture, he pressed on into the forest, making sure to mark off a tree every now and then as so to not lose his orientation. It wasn’t long before the rain began to become heavier, that gentle patter now bombarding his body. Slowly he trailed his deep blue eyes up the trees around him. The short delay between each flash of light and the growling of thunder pounded at his heart.  
Beyond there was patches of white in a clearing, randomly splotched here and there over top a thinly branched bush. In excitement he practically ran over to the bush, and observed the flowers nestled on top. Most definitely an Achillea millefolium, those thistle like leaves and bulked flowers stood out from the over native vegetation like a sore thumb. 

Carefully he removed about 5 handfuls of flowers and a few handfuls of the leaves donning the branches, gently laying them down in the empty bag he brought along with him. Certainly it wasn’t enough to produce a lot of oil, but until they preform another raid it will have to do.  
Deciding that, even though this environment was perfect for an Acorus calamus to grow, that it would be too naïve to believe he could spend this much time out and get both of the plants he needed without a hitch. Certainly they were an infamous group, he wouldn’t be surprised if someone was planning an attack on them. If anything he did not wish to get caught up too much in the grudges Oikawa starts with other tribes. 

For about 20 minutes he silently followed the marks he made on the trees, trying to calculate how long the oiling of the plants will take before he was shocked out of his freezing skin. One gun shot, clear in the storming woodland, a few birds flew his way, away from their ‘campsite’. 

Without thinking, his mind and body coursing with adrenaline, he started to jog, which picked up to a run, than finally sprint. His mind racing as he jumped over fallen trees and over grown roots, his body almost losing balance with how forward he was running. An overwhelming surge of water erupted from a creek nearby, the occasional spray splashing across the wooden bridge laying sketchily over the stream. With determination he continued to sprint, creating heavy thumps with every pound he takes. Reaching the lip of the bridge, without caution, Tobio stepped onto the soaked surface, reaching a total of two steps before he slipped, rolling of the bridge and onto a press of mud, being added to by each break at the banks of the creek. For a handful of moments he struggled, moving his tired limbs in the engulfing mud with little to no progress. He swore heavily, wriggling his feet until he heard voices. Falling into a slow stop warily.

“Did you hear that?” A deep male voice piped, a tone a fear and exhaustion whistling through his voice.

A sound of dismissal occurred. “Nah, probably just some stupid boar or some shit like that.” The other male assured, voice nasally and high.

A moment of silence was given. Causing Tobio to stiffen. “You think so?” He finally replied, relief working its way up his throat.

“Yeah, remember one of them died? And there is two in the shed so no one else should be coming. They make enemies with everyone. No one will save them if we kill them. In fact you can call it justice!” The nasally one finished with gusto, the smile evident in his voice. 

The other paused again, seemingly giving his partner a look a questioning. “Justice?” He inquired, tongue unused to the sound required.  
Voice full of pride, like he had been expecting that the other would have not known the meaning. He began to explain. “Yeah, like something that is right, y’ know? It’s an English word.” 

The conversation died down into lower tones as the female of the trio seemed to have been bothered by their bombastic voices. Rubbing the mud off his face, Kageyama slowly backed up, securing the pack on his side. He allowed the two to prattle on a good while after his fall before he began moving again. Trying to quiet the muddy squelches as much as possible by moving slowly. When he made it back onto the bridge, he got down on all fours, and creeped closer to the sound of idle chit-chat. 

A group of three came into view. A large chubby male, hair tied back into a braided pony tail which ticked the small of his back, of whom was the owner to the nasally voice of the males. The second one, across from him was a male akin to a bean pole. Knotted shortly cut black hair and lanky limbs. The owner of the deep voice, of whom seemed to have his brow permanently creased in worry. Finally the female. Brunette hair, she appeared to be half foreign. Mostly keeping silent with a clearly upset scowl painted on her light skin.  
Tobio’s eyes trailed back to the large male, watching him smack his gums about whatever he had decided he was a master in. A gun was in his sights, small, F & N five seven if Iwaizumi had taught him right. It sat lazily in his chubby fingers, his finger occasionally dancing between sitting on the trigger and tapping the barrel of the gun. A dangerous move that expelled confidence, but hopefully it was all for naught. 

Their conversation swirled into an argument about who knew the true meaning to some other English word, and by suggestion from the female he put his gun into its holster before he ‘started shooting Yomo, the tallest of the three, for not agreeing with his definition.’

The second his arms were raised in disbelieve as he was leaning forward in anger, Tobio grabbed the gun from his holster and kicked the guy forward, and pressing his combat boots against his skull as he kicked the one named Yomo down and pressed the gun against the final person’s chest. Shooting her at such a close range that only a muffled thump was sounded. An exhale of pain whistled through her dried lips as she fell on the ground and began to squirm to move away. 

The obese male underneath him began to stir. His own breath being huffed into the surface of the mud he was being pressed into. He began to move his arms to remove the offending boot from the back of his head, so Tobio did the same to his spine as he did the chest of the woman. Giving two clean shots, one at the neck and one at the base of the pelvis, once again only a mild thump was heard. While removing the pressure from the now paralysed male, Kageyama heard the swish of watery mud in the distance. He managed to look up in time to make eye contact with the lanky male and to see the hunting knife held in his trembling fingers. The jagged and worn blade wormed it way through the layers of skin with force, only barely reaching the muscles before Tobio smacked the weapon out of his hands. As they met at a standoff, Yomo reached his bony fingers to wrap around the gun. Engaging in a wrestle to remove the gun from Tobio’s own hands. Desperately, he kicked at his hips and legs in hope to stun Kageyama. Impatiently, the worry building up in his chest about the fate of the other two, Tobio swiftly lifted his leg up and slammed it down on top of the stranger’s head, shooting him a few times to keep him down. Finally, he turned to look at the largest of the three, still twitching painfully, he took a handful of his black hair and looked him in the eyes.

“Who are you?” He hissed as he pressed the open end of the barrel against his neck. “What tribe are you part of?”

“Cuối cùng” the elder whined out, tears beading in his eyes.

A dazed look crossed his face as he stared at the other, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Cuối cùng, it’s Vietnamese.”

Still not understanding, he just nodded his head silently, his expression softening before he changed the placement of the gun. “Thank you, I’ll put you out of your misery now.”  
After the final shot, a moments silence awaited, nothing but the harsh downpour of rain. Although, a small whistling sound emerged from the woodlands to his north, instantly he recognised it. His body was jittering in fear, he waited, another melody, another pause, a final call. 

At first he pinched his brows in confusion, looking down at the corpses before staring back to where the sound came from, as if asking it a question. Silently he clicked his tongue, at a loss as to what to do. His chest aching and dribbling blood.

Deciding to check their bodies later, he stumbled his way back to the campsite, his head growing light and vision beginning to splotch.

-

“I can see about 2 right now,” Iwaizumi whispered, “One left and one right, they seem to be waiting for something. Do you think it’s an elaborate trap?”

“No,” Oikawa reaffirmed, “The girl on the left is the leader of the Cuối cùng tribe, and they wouldn’t send their own leader out.” 

“How can we be sure that she isn’t another prisoner?” The Iwaizumi suggested, rubbing his sharp black locks. 

At that the brunette grimaced, bitting his lip “We don’t know but they are the only tribe in this region that are aggressive enough to attack us again.”

“Again?!” Hajime whispered in a high pitched tone. “I don’t remember a name like Cuối cùng.”

“They were called ‘Finale’ before but they changed it.” Oikawa informed, squinting his eyes slowly. “They were the ones from six months ago when we were going south.” 

“Some sort of typical revenge mission right?” The black haired male laughed bitterly, turning to face away from Oikawa. “Like those ever work.”

Nodding his head slowly, Oikawa looked forward into the night “We must learn to not just cut off the head of a cockroach.” He mumbled in hindsight.

The tension from the air fell like a brick as Iwaizumi turned to look at Oikawa with a look of disbelief. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Awww Iwa-chan didn’t you learn that in school?” The brunette teased with a smile, poking at his side playfully. “Cockroaches can survive without their head for about 8 weeks, I was just being poetic no need to get all angry.”

“Don’t,” Iwaizumi growled “you fucking touch me right now or I swear to god I’ll break your hand.”

“No need to be embarrassed Iwa-chan, the second we kill these two I’ll tell you all about the other little facts you learn from a public school.” Oikawa taunted, a silly little grin on his face.

A look of desperation crossed over the black haired boy’s face, muddled with anger “Just can we hurry up and kill them before they do the same thing to us?”

“Yes, yeesss. I’ll kill the girl you kill the guy. Since I cannot fight right now I’ll use the gun. I’ll make sure to protect Tobio’s precious mother too so do not worry!” The brunette proclaimed with a grin, clapping his hands in conformation.

“Please, just fuck off.” Iwaizumi groaned.

On his pathetic stumble back to the shed, Tobio managed to notice two others about 30 meters from the base, and another sneaking her way up with a gun. She was small, European, appearing to be the same age as himself, it took three shots to keep her down with his delusional mind, one completely missing and the second only grazing her neck. The gun fire apparently alerted both sides as, Iwaizumi began to charge out to attack the male across from their tent, as gun shots were started at the woman up in the trees. 4 shots got her down, a thump hitting the floor.

The bullets were now directed onto the male Iwaizumi was currently brawling with, the odd one grazing his tanned skin but most being imbedded into the attacker. After his body finally fell, silence ensued.

Immediately Iwaizumi ran to Tobio, checking over his wound and dragging him into the tent to stop the bleeding, while Oikawa slowly sauntered his way over to the fallen captain. Keeping his eyes trained on her heaving stomach.

“You won’t get away with this shit. You’ll be taken down one day.” She spat with eyes laced with venom. “Other tribes know you are a threat, they’ll team up on you.”  
Fighting the keep the smile of his face, he replied, “What’s to stop them from teaming up with us?” 

“Excuse me?” She growled, eye brows knitted in agony.

“I said, ‘what’s to stop them from teaming up with us?’” Oikawa spouted nonchalantly, starting to walk circles around her bloody body “If you are weak, you side with the strong, or you become strong. You certainly know this. Although, I myself cannot imagine anyone stronger than I.”

The captain grunted, before spitting out blood “That pride is the shit that gets you killed.”

The brunette laughed, a long, hearty and merry laugh “You say that as you are beneath me, dying.”

“Grow up, there is another troupe one much more powerful than you can ever hope to be. They are like a pack, they’ll pick you dry the second they see weakness. You’re heading straight into their territory, you’ll fucking die in the most magnificent way, your fucking just deserts.” She argued back, her breath grinding in her throat like gravel. “They are called Funikushoku.”

Oikawa squinted his eyes, his movement slowing as he raised his head up high, “Funikushoku huh?” he muttered in amusement.  
“I’d like to see them try.”

Not allowing her to utter another word he shot her straight in the head, her brain matter splattering across the fallen leaves of the forest floor as he body gave a few last twitches. Causally he bent over and retrieved her bags before walking away. Eyebrows pinched and a scowl set into his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the boys in here have their hair overgrown in some sort of manner. Kageyama's is the longest reaching past his shoulders, Oikawa's just tickling his collarbone, Iwaizumi's curling around his ears. 
> 
> They won't have their hair long for much longer though, they just haven't had the time to cut it.


End file.
